Obey or Bleed

Lyra Ashen would never think that could develop feelings for a monster. She is a smart, fearless and dedicated journalist on a mission to bring down a corrupt governor, Pierce Leneghan, who has mafia ties. She is laser-focused on revealing his dark business until she sees him in real life…

Once Lyra lands her gaze on Pierce, she can’t think straight. The Alpha instantly feels an attraction to a young and hot journalist and claims her his fated mate. This makes the mission almost unbearable for Lyra. 

She can’t resist feeling the magnetic connection to the powerful Alpha. So now, she has to choose to finish the unfinished business or dive into the wave of passion and surrender. She no longer sees Pierce as a monster but a man who makes her feel like she never felt before.

Themes Discussed in Obey or Bleed

👿 Enemies to Lovers

🐺 Fated Mates

⚜️ Mafia

🕊️ Second Chance

♥️ Logic vs Feelings

Reasons to Read Obey or Bleed

🔥 Mafia power that holds tension through the story

🐺 Werewolf bond for the fans of paranormal

🎯 Undeniable chemistry between enemies

Meet the Main Characters

🕵️‍♀️Lyra Ashen
Being on a mission to expose the dark secrets and dirty business of Pierce Leneghan, she would never think she can fall in love so easily. Lyra is presented to the readers as a smart, fearless and passionate journalist who has to navigate a trap she is in: to choose between her mission or follow her heart. 

🧛‍♂️ Pierce Leneghan
Pierce is shown as Alpha and a criminal who only knows the dark side of life until he meets Lyra. His heart pounds when he sees her and he can’t resist the fated connection. Through the story, Pierce will change his character and show his vulnerable side readers will enjoy. “But even monsters can’t survive without a heart beating inside their chest” This amazing quote by Colleen Hover perfectly describes the main character and makes readers look beyond his exterior. Obey or Bleed will become a great choice for fans of dark theme romances.

Obey or Bleed – Chapter 1

Lyra’s POV

If you told me last year that I’d be half-naked, dancing for sleazy politicians in some fancy underground club while wearing a wire, I probably would’ve choked on my iced coffee and called you crazy.

But here we are. Staring at my own reflection in the dressing room of The Burning Sun, the kind of club where secrets flow faster than champagne.

I tugged at the black sequined bra barely covering my chest and adjusted the matching thong that was doing absolutely nothing for my dignity. A velvet mask hugged my eyes, giving me just enough anonymity to pretend this wasn’t the worst idea I’ve ever had.

And that little mic buzzing under my bra? Yeah, that was supposed to make me feel like a badass spy. Spoiler: it didn’t.

“You can do this, Lyra,” I mumbled, trying not to gag on my own nerves. “Just dance. Record the corrupt scumbag. Get the hell out.”

Easy, right?

“Room Three,” a gruff voice barked. One of the bouncers stood at the door, arms crossed and face like stone. “Governor’s waiting.”

My stomach dropped. It’s time for Showtime.

“Perfect,” I said with the fakest smile known to man as I strutted past him, heels stabbing into the floor like I meant business.

The hallway smelled like expensive cigars, too much cologne, and ego. I slipped past a velvet curtain and into Room Three, a.k.a. the VIP pit of sin. Leather couches wrapped around a small private stage, and sitting dead center like he ran the world was Governor Renshaw.

Big shot. Bigger ego. He was nursing a glass of whiskey like he hadn’t just been caught laundering millions, allegedly.

Three other men flanked him, all puffed up in suits, trying way too hard to look important. Except him. The guy at the far end of the couch? He didn’t move, nor speak. Just stared.

Tall. Sharp-jawed. Slick black hair. He had the kind of face you won’t forget, and trust me, I wanted to forget it. Because the second I walked in, his eyes locked on mine like I’d just walked into a lion’s den in slow motion.

Nope. Don’t look at him. Focus on Renshaw. You’re here for the mission.

I grabbed the pole like it was the only stable thing in the room and forced my body to move with the beat pulsing through the speakers. Slow, and sexy.

“Damn,” one guy muttered. “Renshaw, where do you find these girls?”

“She’s new,” the governor replied with a grin. “I like the mask. Makes her look mysterious and kinda dangerous.” Cute. Real original.

I dropped into a squat and crawled forward, keeping my eyes locked on anyone but the frozen-faced creep watching me like I was his personal prey. But then… yeah. I peeked.

His drink hasn’t moved, and his fingers didn’t twitch. But those eyes, icy blue and burning like a slow fire, were pinned on me like I just whispered a secret only he could hear. What the hell was his deal?

Focus, Lyra. You’re here for Renshaw. Not the guy who looks like he could snap necks and drink expensive scotch at the same time.

I pivoted my hips, crawling up to the governor’s side. Time to turn it up. I swung one leg over his lap, my hands trailing over his chest, hips grinding to the slow bass rumbling through the walls. His breath caught, and I leaned in close, brushing my lips near his ear.

He smirked, entirely too pleased with himself. “The shipment lands Tuesday,” he murmured to the guy next to him. Bingo.

“It goes straight to-”

“Alpha,” one of the suits interrupted, glancing toward the creeper in the shadows. “The Italian wants a word after this.”

Alpha? Like, actual name? Codename?

I didn’t have time to process it because something inside me, some stupid, magnetic force, was already pulling me back to him. I tried to keep grinding on Renshaw, but it felt forced now. Like my body knew I was facing the wrong direction.

My eyes flicked back to the one they called ‘Alpha’.

He still hasn’t moved, he just lifted his drink to his lips, sipping slowly, watching me with a look that made my whole spine buzz. The kind of stare that stripped more than your clothes, it stripped excuses… lies… masks.

My knees turned. Traitorous. Hungry for answers or danger or something I didn’t even have a name for. I slid off the governor’s lap, ignoring the mild protest in his groan, and slowly lowered myself to the floor again.

My palms kissed the stage, my hips swayed in rhythm as I crawled away from the governor and toward him, toward the man whose name tasted like trouble and power.

I stopped when I was kneeling right between his legs. I told myself to look away. To play it cool. But I didn’t. I looked up, right into his eyes, and that’s when I knew: I’ve lost whatever game I thought I was playing.

He still didn’t say a word, but then he moved. His hand reached forward, slow and deliberate, and grabbed a fistful of my hair.

Not yanking, not painful. Just enough to make sure I didn’t go anywhere. His grip was confident. Final. Possessive in a way that wasn’t asking, it was declaring.

I froze when he leaned in and sniffed my neck. I sucked in a breath. My body locked. My brain screamed, get up, run, bite him, do something, but I didn’t.

I was frozen in place, heat blooming down my neck like a chemical reaction I couldn’t reverse.

With his free hand, he reached into his jacket, pulled out a wad of bills, and placed them against my chest. Right between my breasts. His knuckles grazed my skin like he meant it. Like every movement was a threat dressed as a caress.

Then, he spoke, real soft and close, like his voice was a damn secret. “What a beautiful mate.”

I blinked. Hard. Mate? Like… soulmate? Dog tag? Super possessive cult-speak?

Before I could get a word out, his fingers left the bills, trailing upward, and he took my chin in his hand, forcing me to look at him, like looking away was no longer an option.

Up close, he smelled like smoke and spice and something darker I couldn’t name. His thumb brushed the corner of my mouth, and for a split second, I forgot why I was even here.

“We’ll meet again,” he said. Then he stood, hand releasing me like he was giving me back to gravity.

He walked away like he hadn’t just flipped my night upside down. Like he didn’t short-circuit my mission and rewired my damn nervous system.

And I stayed there, kneeling, heart pounding in my throat, brain refusing to reboot.